


Blue Sky

by Vivian



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hux is a pretentious cunt, Hux thinks filthy things, Kylo is an asshole and bad at flirting, M/M, meeting on a plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6759229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivian/pseuds/Vivian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is on a business flight. Kylo is a stranger who falls asleep on Hux's shoulder. Hux is not amused, but less annoyed than he would like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Лазурные небеса](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7583023) by [fandom_Kylux_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Kylux_2016/pseuds/fandom_Kylux_2016), [Uporoboros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uporoboros/pseuds/Uporoboros)



> So, this whole thing is inspired by and based on [kawaiilo--ren's beautiful art](http://kawaiilo--ren.tumblr.com/post/143583957330/so-i-am-in-taiwan-for-the-next-8-days-for-a-much) & her head canons about this wonderful AU. You're amazing and I can't wait for our collab!  
> Thanks goes to my [love](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelas) who beta'd this and made me nearly unreasonably happy with her thoughtful and sweet comments, and is also responsible for my emotional outburst over these two. I love you.

Hux has been awake since 4am. He’s been two hours early at the airport as usual—and right on time to find out his flight to San Francisco has been cancelled. A stewardess informs him that he has been put onto a later flight. This whole endeavour will cost him three additional hours. Time he had planned to use. But there is no avoiding it. He gets comfortable first in a small café, then in the airport lounge at the gate as soon as it opens. He has more than enough work to keep him busy till boarding as well as for the entirety of the flight.

Businessmen from all over the world fill the Frankfurt International airport, along with tourists catching transfer flights, people arriving with big sunglasses and huge suitcases.

Hux plucks in his earphones and turns Brahms’ Symphony No. 4 onto full volume. For a while, he sinks into his work.

By the time boarding starts, he has revised the numbers of the most recent quarter, and is about to send out emails to his chief of staff and secretary. Hux saves the drafts, stows away his ipad, and takes out his iphone instead. The boarding-line moves slowly. Earlier, the stewardess had told him no remaining business class reservations had been available for this flight, but that they naturally would refund the additional money.

Hux might have been able to take all of it calmly. The cancellation, the waiting, the economic class. He might have just accepted it, as not to waste further energy. But then someone shoves him to the side just as he is about to show his passport. Both his iphone and his passport clatter to the floor. Rage wells up inside Hux.

“ _Excuse me_?” he snaps.

The man who’d pushed to the front doesn’t even look back. He is tall, all dressed in black, bulking, a guitar case on his back. He marches towards the waiting plane. Hux curses him to hell and back.

Hux’s seat is in the second to last row in the back of the plane, where turbulences will be felt most intensely. Wonderful. He’s not been this far from business class since he was twenty-two. At least it appears the seat next to him is free. He should be so lucky. Hux takes out his ipad once more and stores away his briefcase. Just when he has opened his emails, he can hear a door slam, probably the rest room. The next moment someone is beside him. He glances upward. It’s the man from before and he now crams himself into the seat next to Hux. He’s too tall and too broad, elbows edging over Hux’s armrest, long legs shoving into Hux’s space, shoulders pushing against Hux’s.

Hux stares at him in unspoken outrage, tight-lipped. He breathes in through his nose. He’s about to say something cutting when the man turns to look at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” the man says, voice strained. He has dark eyes, a long nose, big lips that move in a way Hux’s brain is currently not able to process, and a slim, askew chin. Birthmarks scatter all over his skin. It’s a ridiculous face. Completely asymmetrical.

Hux’s lips twitch.

“Yes, _me_ ,” Hux says, acrid.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man says, intonation staccato, aggressive. It doesn’t sound very apologetic. Then he extends a big hand.

“I’m Kylo,” he says.

Hux looks at the hand, then at Kylo. Slowly, Hux raises his eyebrows and, without another word, turns to his ipad. Seeing Kylo draw back his hand brings him a small drop of satisfaction. It vaporises the moment Kylo plucks in his earphones. Some god-awful screaming starts blasting at a volume that renders Hux speechless. Yet, instead of engaging another confrontation, Hux exchanges Brahms for Beethoven and applies himself to work. The plane takes off. Eleven dreadful hours of flight await.

 

At some point, the pandemonium next to him ceases. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux sees Kylo fumbling with the armrest, then plugging his earphones into the adapter that connects them with the small screen in the seat in front of them. Hux watches how Kylo skims through the movies available. One worse than the other. Kylo settles for _Avengers_. Hux purses his lips. Of course Kylo would watch this rubbish. Americans and their superheroes. The volume is still turned up so high that now Hux has to listen to this movie, too. He needs a drink.

Finally, half an hour in, a stewardess comes along, pushing a small cart carrying beverages. Hux orders a whiskey on the rocks. It takes Hux’s utmost control not to grimace when he takes the first sip. The liquor is ghastly, but it has to do. He continues his work for a while longer and orders a second whiskey. Eventually he closes the documents on his ipad and opens an ebook version of _De Bello Gallico_.

Hux finishes the whiskey the instant a weight drops onto his shoulder. Hux stills, holding the tumbler in midair. Slowly, he turns his head.

Kylo is asleep on his shoulder. Mouth hanging open, black hair messy, earphones still plugged in.

Hux calms his breath. He puts down the empty tumbler. He grits his teeth and swallows the insult prickling on the tip of his tongue. Then he stiffly shoves Kylo’s heavy head from his shoulder. Spite sears in his veins. Kylo has made him touch him after all.

Not a minute later, it happens again. Hux shoves him off, causing Kylo to weakly snatch at Hux’s hands without waking up. Hux bats his fingers away, heart racing.

The third time it happens, Hux snaps.

“ _Get off me_ ,” he hisses and pushes Kylo away. Kylo still doesn’t wake. His lips part, he mumbles something incomprehensible before settling back onto Hux.

Hux wants to murder him.

His pulse throbs in his ears, his breathing is erratic. Then Kylo turns his head ever so slightly, soft mouth grazing Hux’s neck. Hux freezes. A shiver runs down his spine. This is unacceptable. He closes his eyes, inhales sharply through his nose. Another mumble falls from Kylo’s lips, breath warm against Hux’s skin. Hux knows that if he shoves off Kylo again, he will simply fall back onto him. It’s no use, he tells himself. Kylo smells faintly of cigarettes, and of something that reminds Hux of dried dates, of evenings still filled with a summer day’s scorching, terrible heat. He huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head. He’s about to once more shove Kylo off, when Kylo stirs.

Good. Hux will give him a tongue-lashing that the boy won’t ever forget.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo drawls, voice soft and deep.

Hux forgets what he’d wanted to say. Kylo moves back, takes out his earphones and from beneath his lashes glances at Hux.

“You’re comfortable,” Kylo adds and a faint blush warms his cheeks. Hux stares at him, incredulous.

“I—” he starts.

But Kylo comes closer again. His bulking form bends over the ipad in Hux’s lap.

“Is that Latin?” Kylo asks.

“Err—Yes.” Anger rises inside Hux. He bites his tongue.

“Are you like, a teacher?”

Hux regains some of his composure and snorts derisively.

“No. I did Latin on the side when studying business in Cambridge.”

Kylo huffs a soft breath, not at all impressed.

“So you’re a businessman,” Kylo says. His dark eyes glint.

“That’s what studying business _implies_ , doesn’t it,” Hux bites back. Heat crawls up his neck. He’s not sure what is happening, but he needs it to stop.

“Now, if you are so inclined, I’d like to resume reading,” Hux says.

“I’m not,” Kylo says.

“What?”

“So inclined.” Kylo grins crookedly. It makes the hairs stand on the back of Hux’s neck. Hux wants to smack that grin from Kylo’s mouth. Kylo’s lips stretch wider.

“So what were you doing in Germany?”

“ _Business_ ,” Hux snaps.

Kylo laughs. It’s a deep rumbling sound that fades into soft and higher breathy laughter. Utterly irritating. Hux gnashes his teeth.

“I’m in a band,” Kylo says before Hux can reply anything. “I was on tour.”

Hux’s brows crease.

“Aha,” he says.

Apparently it is not enough to keep Kylo from continuing.

“You should come see me play,” Kylo says. A tad of nervousness twines itself into Kylo’s voice.

The corners of Hux’s mouth move upward a fraction.

“No thank you,” Hux says. He watches Kylo bite his lower lip, then Hux turns back to his ipad.

For a while, there is quiet.

Kylo plugs his earphones back in and watches another action flick. It doesn’t take long until Kylo slides to the side once more, head landing firmly on Hux’s shoulder. Hux doesn’t even bother to look away from his ipad. He continues reading, Kylo’s steady breath at his neck. He is heavy and warm.

It’s completely surreal. Hux is on a plane, economic class, and a stranger sleeps propped against his shoulder. Kylo. He had not even bothered with a last name. Hux purses his lips in annoyance, finds himself not minding as much as he would like.

The hours pass. Hux goes back and forth between working and reading. Outside, the endless stretch of clouds. Whenever the plane tilts to the side, Hux catches a glance of the reeling landscapes. They had crossed the Atlantic a few hours back and now advance over Canada, going north to later turn westwards. They pass over the jagged spines of mountains and winding streams glinting platinum and dark blue. Hux is not particularly fond of being in nature, but from thousands of miles above, he can extol it.

At some point, a steward hands out the immigration forms. He gives Hux a small smile after glancing at Kylo who’s still sleeping at Hux’s shoulder. Hux gives the steward a cold stare. He fills out the immigration form and keeps it on the foldable table used for food. Then he goes back to work.

Kylo makes a soft noise, seemingly waking up. Immediately, Hux’s posture straightens. Fingers curl around Hux’s upper arm. Kylo braces himself against him to get into an upright position again.

“Good,” Hux says and undoes his seatbelt. “I need to use the restroom.”

Instead of getting up, Kylo leaves Hux to awkwardly scramble over him. Kylo steadies him with a hand to Hux’s hip as Hux is on the verge of toppling over Kylo’s bag. The touch feels like it’s burning him.

“Thank you,” Hux grits out and tries to keep wrath at bay.

He goes to the restroom and takes a piss, washes his hands for a while too long, staring into the mirror above the washbasin. Dark circles under his eyes. Despite the flight, his hair is combed back perfectly, his face clean-shaven. His shirt and blazer however, have crumpled. Hux tries to smooth out the wrinkles to no avail. A sigh leaves Hux’s lips, then he makes to go back to his seat.

This time, Kylo does get up. If only because lunch has arrived and is placed on the foldable plates.

“I chose for you,” Kylo says, smirk playing at his lips, and gestures to the plastic wrapped sandwich. It’s curry chicken. Hux hates curry chicken. Without a reply, Hux moves back to his seat, pulling the seatbelt tightly.

“I’d have appreciated it most if you hadn’t,” Hux snaps, turning to Kylo.

“They wouldn’t wait,” Kylo says as if that explained everything.

“I don’t care. You don’t get to order for me.”

Kylo looks at him, then throws his arms up in an overly dramatic gesture and starts unwrapping his own sandwich. Kylo tears into it like a starving animal. For a moment, Hux stares at him, then takes out his briefcase, procuring a few slices of crusty bread, fresh cheese and grapes.

“Are you serious,” Kylo says through a mouthful of chicken, salad and squishy white sandwich-bread.

“This,” Hux says pointedly and looks at Kylo chewing open-mouthed, “is _disgraceful_.”

Kylo laughs, chokes, coughs, spewing pieces of chewed food to Hux’s horror, and then continues laughing.

“You’re such a fucking snob.”

“You have no manners.”

Kylo grins, close-mouthed, thank god.

“I get that a lot,” Kylo says, licking curry sauce from his lips.

“Perhaps you should consider acquiring some,” Hux says, eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps you should teach me,” Kylo says, voice wavering slightly.

Hux looks at him. Then he turns to his own lunch.

“If you’re not eating it, can I have it?” Kylo asks, gesturing to Hux’s untouched sandwich.

“By all means,” Hux says sourly, bracing himself for more open-mouthed chewing.

In the time that it takes Hux to eat half a slice of bread, some grapes and a bit of cheese, Kylo devours the second sandwich.

“You’re insatiable,” Hux says before he can think better of it.

For once, Kylo replies nothing. Instead, he simply looks at Hux. In the dim light, Kylo’s eyes seem black. Intense. Too open. Hux shivers. In lieu of speaking, Hux nods at the grapes. Kylo looks at them, at Hux, and back to the grapes. Carefully, Kylo culls one between his thumb and index finger. _Ridiculous_ , Hux thinks. But he does not look away when Kylo pushes the grape between his plush lips, and sucks on his fingers. He watches Kylo chew and swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing. Suddenly, Hux feels hot.

“What’s your name?” Kylo asks.

“That’s none of your business.”

For a moment, it seems as if Kylo wants to press the matter. Then he simply takes another grape, before turning away.

Hux’s appetite perishes. He puts the food back into the tupperware and into the briefcase, storing it under the seat in front of him.

After that, they do not speak.

When Hux needs to use the restroom again, Kylo gets up without another word.

For a while, Hux immerses himself into work. Outside it gets dark. Another four hours. The arrival in San Francisco is scheduled for 10pm. It will take him at least an hour to get to his hotel and he will have to look over some more files. At 8am the next morning he has a meeting with the San Francisco’s firm’s CEOs. A tight schedule, but feasible. After all, the salary Hux makes is not for nothing. Meanwhile, Kylo has resumed watching whatever rubbish movie the flight has to offer. Every now and then Hux catches himself glancing at the man. The wide stretch of his shoulders, his ridiculously big hands, fingertips of his left callused. His brow is set low, mouth pouting, hair raven-black, falling into his pale face. He sits awkwardly, too tall for the seat. The stretch of muscle and taut flesh visible where his torn shirt rides up, and for a brief moment Hux wonders how it would be to have all of that strength submit to him.

Kylo looks up. Their gazes meet. Heat sparks through Hux. He turns away. His heart is beating fast.

From the corner of his eye Hux sees Kylo tense. Hux tries to breathe evenly and concentrate on his work. His thoughts however, drift off. To white sheets and a body that writhes underneath him. Hux shifts in his seat, crossing his legs. There may be no harm in indulging, but he is not in his twenties anymore and there are more efficient thoughts to have. He turns back to work. The battery on his ipad is on 21%, so he takes out his charger and plugs it into the socket between their seats. When he moves up again, Kylo’s eyes have closed. His plush lips are parted and reveal a sliver of teeth. It’s a mouth that begs to be used. Hux grits his teeth and bans the image from his mind.

A few minutes later, as Hux is drafting an email to one of his associates, Kylo’s head sinks back onto Hux’s shoulder. Hux swallows hard. Then continues to work.

Time passes him by.

Eventually, a stewardess with a cart carrying dinner comes by. Hux refuses for both himself and Kylo.

Half an hour before landing, Kylo wakes. Hux can tell by the change in Kylo’s breathing. But Kylo stays unmoved. A cramp is forming in Hux’s neck and his left shoulder where Kylo’s head rests, but Hux doesn’t move either, nor does he give Kylo any indication that he knows Kylo is awake. Hux blames it on the exhaustion. He has neither the strength nor the patience to deal with another confrontation.

Kylo’s warm breath against his skin. Goosebumps crawl over Hux’s arms and back. He stares at the ipad without seeing. God, he wants to shove his fingers down Kylo’s throat. Wants to see him choke. He grabs the armrest, knuckles turning white. This stranger, who does not quite feel like a stranger anymore. A goddamn _musician_. Everything about Kylo irritates him. His tall frame, his asymmetrical face, the way he speaks, pressing out his words in quick staccato succession. The softness of his mouth. The way he tries to flirt, over-eager and clumsy. The dark of his eyes, ardent, too open, looking too young. He has no manners, no respect for authority whatsoever. Hux wants to _make_ him behave.

Hux breathes out, nostrils flaring. This won’t do. This won’t do at all.

“I know you’re awake,” Hux says sharply.

He can feel Kylo tense. It gives him some satisfaction.

“Mhm?” Kylo makes, slowly opening his eyes. It’s not a half-bad performance. Then Kylo presses his face into Hux’s neck. The blood freezes in Hux’s veins.

“Enough,” Hux snaps and manhandles Kylo back into an upright position. A sleepy, lazy, utterly debauched smile curves on Kylo’s lips. Hux is speechless. Hux _hates_ him. His fingers twitch. It takes most of his self control not to clutch them into fists or slap that smile from Kylo’s mouth.

“I suggest you stay awake for the remainder of the flight,” Hux says, cold.

Kylo’s smile falters, turns apologetic. It only fuels Hux’s rage.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says. He’s about to add more, but Kylo bites his lip.

“‘m sorry,” Kylo mumbles.

For a heartbeat, Hux looks at him, stunned.

“You should be,” Hux says then.

The look Kylo gives him conveys both shame and anger. It pleases Hux.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo repeats and sounds significantly less apologetic.

Hux snorts. Kylo’s cheeks redden and his brow furrows.

“Whatever,” Kylo says. He snatches his earphones from his foldable table and plugs them into his phone. The music that blasts out of them is the same as from before. Hux’s lips twitch. For a second, he regards Kylo and his childish behaviour, before he puts in his earphones, too. He turns up Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, and then changes it to Smetana’s String Quartet No. 1.

Hux has everything ready and packed as they approach for landing. Underneath them, San Francisco’s city lights. Hux has been here before, a couple of times. He’s never been particularly fond of the west coast, but finds San Francisco the most bearable of its cities. At least, with the cold breezes from the Pacific, it is not as hellish as Sacramento. And in the end, he will only stay a week if all meetings go as planned. Hux smoothes down his blazer and straightens his tie. Next to him, Kylo still has various things scattered over the table, and is playing some game on his phone. He makes no move to get up when they have landed safely and the doors at the back entrance open. Hux climbs over him once more, making sure to bump his briefcase against Kylo’s knees. Kylo doesn’t even look up. Anger rises inside Hux. He brushes away any thoughts about this absurd encounter, and makes to exit the plane.

Outside, the night air is still warm. Exhaustion sits heavily in Hux’s limbs. As the rest of the passengers, he follows the signs inside towards the baggage claim area. He’s not looking forward to get through security, but at least the airport is relatively small. He’s about to enter the airport building, as suddenly someone calls out his name.

“Hux!” It’s Kylo.

Hux turns around, irritation flaring up. Kylo must have looked at his immigration form. Now, Kylo marches towards him. Walking he looks even bigger, strength and weight to every step. His hair is a mess and he is wearing his jacket inside out, guitar case on his broad back. For a second, Hux wonders how he got it on board in the first place—then Kylo is in front of him. Cheeks heated, lips pouting, and shoves something into Hux’s hand. Hux is too perplexed to refuse it. It’s a crumpled piece of paper. With a phone number scribbled on it.

Hux looks up. Kylo meets his gaze, sullen, blushing redder.

“You, when you, when you’re in the city...I mean, you gonna need a drink,” Kylo says, rapid.

“And you know where to get a decent drink,” Hux says offish, more than doubtful.

“Yeah, I mean,” Kylo stutters, anger furrowing his brow, “I don’t know, but. I could take you out.”

“On a date.”

Kylo looks at him, defiant. Hux delights in his suffering, fixing Kylo with a cold stare.

“I’m on a schedule,” Hux says then, watching Kylo’s lips twitch.

Hux nods, business like, and leaves Kylo behind.

Baggage claim and security go smoothly. Half an hour later, Hux sits in a taxi to his hotel. Outside, the night lights blur. Hux is on his phone, making a quick call to his secretary. When he pockets his phone, his fingers slide against the crumpled piece of paper. He snorts quietly.

At the hotel, finally in his room, he pulls off his blazer, rolls up his sleeves, opens the first two buttons of his shirt and pours himself a whiskey. He takes out the files from his briefcase and gets to work.

It’s nearly two in the morning when he closes his folder and stores away the files. Hux sighs, and gets ready for bed.

As he strides from the bathroom back into the bedroom, his glance falls onto his blazer.

It’s been a long day. Hux walks over, takes out the crumpled piece of paper. He looks at the distorted numbers, written so big that Kylo had to cut the line twice. Nervous. Hux allows himself a smirk.

Then he dials the number. Kylo picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?” Kylo’s voice sounds just a little slurred.

“About that drink…” Hux says.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fluff I've written in ages. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Cross-posted on my [kylux tumblr](http://kyluxxury.tumblr.com/post/143912951138/kylux-airport-au).
> 
>  **Edit:** I _might_ continue this. But not yet sure.


End file.
